


Frozen

by LadyoftheWoods



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fae Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Fae Deceit | Janus Sanders, Fae Logic | Logan Sanders, Fae Morality | Patton Sanders, Fairy Tale Curses, Freezing, Hurt Deceit | Janus Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, JanusxPatton, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Slight whumpage, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Unsympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: IceHis body is filling with ice.The frost creeps across his skin, up his face. It makes his hair hard and crunchy, the tips turning white with it.His lips are turning blue. He can tell his entire body is far too pale, his scales dimming in color with the cold, hard and chapped and cracked.His chest aches with it. It burns his lungs, the searing cold, biting it’s way into his bloodstream, slowing and slowing the thumping of his heart.
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 118





	Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over the course of several days at mostly two am so here ya go!

Ice

His body is filling with ice.

The frost creeps across his skin, up his face. It makes his hair hard and crunchy, the tips turning white with it. 

His lips are turning blue. He can tell his entire body is far too pale, his scales dimming in color with the cold, hard and chapped and cracked.

His chest aches with it. It burns his lungs, the searing cold, biting it’s way into his bloodstream, slowing and slowing the thumping of his heart. 

His hands curl weakly against the ground, the thick layer of ice that covers the floor of the cave providing no traction, but he digs in his claws, forces himself halfway up to kneeling. 

His reflection looks afraid. Looks frazzled and scared and not at all himself, surely he isn’t that gaunt, surely he isn’t that thin. Surely he’s only been here for minutes, instead of the endless eternity it seems he has.

Weakly, he tears his gaze away from the reflection, which he swears smirks at him, dragging himself one hand at a time to what had once been the opening of the cave.

Now it’s frozen thick with ice, at least a foot thick, frosted and cloudy in places, only letting him see the barest shadows of movement, the faintest maybe outlines of movement, that are probably just his imagination. 

He thumps a fist pathetically against the ice wall, knowing it won’t do any good. Knowing no one can hear him, he’d already tried screaming, tried beating his way out, before the cold had sunk in so deep, and it hadn’t done a thing.

He’s crying. He doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t know why, but he is, though the tears simply freeze to his face, the wetness causing his eyes to glaze over with ice, making the world blurry, leaving him unable to blink or close them. He doesn’t have the strength to wipe them clear, his body giving out as he thumps onto his side, arm stretching limply outward, pressed against the ice, a silent plea no one will ever see. 

He's so cold. His breath plumes in front of his face, and he can feel his lungs, his heart, his senses, starting to slow, on the verge of shutting down. But they don’t. They won’t. 

That’s the wonderfully cruel trick to it all. That’s the point of the punishment, of the exile, of this merciless fate. 

It’s cold, yes. Cold enough that he’s only half alive, slow and weak and powerless, but it leaves him desperately aware, trapped in this frozen body with his still sharp mind, endlessly trying to figure out a way free, knowing all the while it’s not possible. He is nothing. He is no one. He is doomed to this nightmare of cold and hopelessness and ice forever, to remind him just how powerless he really is. 

Any second, this could be over. Any second, they could choose to kill him, and he wouldn’t be able to raise a single iota of strength to defend himself. But they wouldn’t. 

Watching him languish in his own despair, slowly giving up, slowly crumbling away to insanity, to nothing?

That was so much more satisfying. 

Gods, he’d kill for a ray of sunlight. Even winter sunlight, that didn’t really warm him at all, that was cold and hard as a diamond, he’d die for that right now. 

There are icicles, above him. Thick and huge and he fancies he can lay here and watch them grow for eternity, descending slowly downwards year by year until they finally reach the ground and puncture his chest, rupture his heart. 

Of course, his heart is the only part of him that’s as cold and hard as the ice itself, and knowing himself, it wouldn’t give up the fight that easily, no matter how much he begged it to. 

He wishes he could close his eyes. Wishes the apathy weighing down his limbs would fade just a bit, just enough he could close his eyes because the white of the walls, of the ice, the mirroring of it, was starting to make him see things, imagine things.

He shakes his head weakly to clear it, forcing himself to get a grip, to get to his knees, to scrub his eyes clear, though the action exhausts him, has him slumping back against the ice. 

He thinks he’s been here for years, now. He knows there’s an eternity between each motion he makes, each thought. He knows he’s moving slower that time is, that the world is spinning by while he’s locked away in here, and he nearly cries again, before shoving it down. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, that’s all he was, he’d known no good would come from this, he'd known, it would end badly, and he’d naively believed at the time that they would face it together. That things would work out. He’d shoved aside all his survival instincts because that’s what those eyes did to him, made him forget the danger he was in until it had all become real. 

And where, where, where was He? 

Sitting quietly by as his sentence was given, not meeting his eyes, not saying a word, as if he were a ghost, a stranger, and that hurt worst of all. Because to him, to him it had all been real. But clearly, none of it had been. 

That’s what he gets, for trusting an Unseelie. For believing anything out of that mouth, for wishing, hoping, actually believing, that he meant something. 

He didn’t. He was a toy. An amusement. A game. He was a stupid summer fae to seduce and use and discard, they were probably laughing now, at court, about how hopelessly clueless, how utterly easy, his kind were to fool. What a grand joke.

What a hilarious fucking joke.

His throat tears as he laughs, laughs wildly and uncontrollably, howling like an injured wildcat, clawing at his own skin, long, dragging red lines, down his arms, the blood freezing in place almost immediately, causing more bubbling laughter as his hands grip his hair, digging into his scalp. 

He curls around himself, gasping in harsh, whooping breaths that burn him, scorch him and if he hadn’t already worn himself down he would scream.

Instead he drifts. He drifts into half sleep, desperate to escape in any way he can, but even that brings no comfort. 

Because it’s Him, he dreams of. Him he sees. Those brilliant blue eyes, that white blond hair, the frost that freckles His face and sparkles in the light, how warm He was despite the winter running through those veins.

And now winter runs through his. Slowly choking the summer out of him, slowly freezing him over from the inside, they’d already frozen his heart. It was only a matter of time, before the rest of him froze too. Ice. He was becoming ice. And still, still, he wouldn’t lose awareness. Even when his limbs turned clear and frozen, even when his lungs stopped pumping, even as he turned to ice, he would be aware. His heart would keep going. Keep him alive.

When he looks up, time has passed. It must have. The icicles are larger, much larger. The cave is smaller. His skin is translucent, frosted with ice, turning to ice, the transformation slowly climbing his body and it hurts, gods, it hurts, it burns. He’s so fragile. So easily broken. He wants nothing more than to slam himself against the wall until he shatters.

He doesn’t remember what color looks like. 

He tries to picture it, tries to imagine, the grass, the trees, the sun dappling through the leaves, but everything is in shades of white and gray and black. All around him is white, all around him is mirrored, all around him is ice. 

Grass. Grass under his fingers. Dirt, against his fingernails. Flowers, flowers blooming around him, snapdragons and queen Anne’s lace. Sunshine on his face, warming his scales, his skin, basking in the light. Blue skies and white wispy clouds, a soft breeze. 

The memory fades at the sharp burn from the ice, as he hisses sharply, he doesn’t remember how it feels to be warm, anyways, he can’t even capture the feeling in his memories, all he has is this ache, this endless, broken ache, where his warmth had once been. 

Eventually, the cave will freeze over completely. It will freeze him in it. He’ll be the center of an ice burg, and still he won’t die, he wishes he’d just die, he wishes he could die, because this is agony, this is worse than anything he could have imagined, he wishes he had the strength to force himself to let go. 

He’s tired. He’s so tired. It doesn’t matter, anymore, that when he closes his eyes, he sees those blue ones, he sees those soft blond curls, those frosted freckles, that smiling mouth, that he’d thought so sincere, he’d been so amazed, how soft this winter prince was when they were supposed to be cruel and cold, well, he’d been wrong, he was always wrong. The one time, he refused caution, he chose to believe in something, and he’d never get another chance. He wants to cry, to scream, some more, but he can’t. His vocal chords are frozen in his throat, his voice long gone, he’s exhausted. 

So he closes his eyes, and lets himself drift away, not caring or knowing if he’ll ever wake up again.  
…  
A rumble. 

It eases him from sleep, the vibrations on the ground, and he shoves himself backwards, against the far wall as much as he can be, the movement aching in his bones. Another rumble, and he manages to curl tight, as he sees the cracks, the cracks in the ice, as it explodes inwards in a shatter of shards, slicing against his skin, into his skin, and he can’t help the small whimper that escapes him, as the dust settles, around him, his vision blurred and hazy. 

“Janus?” No. He knows that voice. He can’t… he can’t take this, he can’t… 

He shifts, slightly, just a tiny twitch, of pain, and the ice shards around him shift, cascade slightly, and he curls tighter as ice chokes his lungs, coughing weakly as he tries to clear his airway, the shards he coughs up scraping against his insides, leaving him wheezing.

He hears a gasp, then there are hands, hands on him, digging him out of the ice pile, pulling him into His arms, and the touch burns, it burns, it hurts, exquisite agony radiating from where they touch him, dark light exploding behind his eyes, as he tries to weakly fight his way free. 

“Janus, Janus, please…” He doesn’t stop, though the hands on his arms hold him down, keep him from getting away, though he hisses to show his displeasure, snarling, like a feral animal, but he’s so weak, he barely has the energy to hiss. 

Then warmth runs through him, actual warmth, and he realizes His lips are on his, and he doesn’t have it in him to fight this, hands coming up to cling to His shirt, desperate for the warmth, the warmth, he’s crying, it’s not freezing, the tears aren’t freezing, then agony rockets up his spine, explodes from his soul, and the world goes dark.  
…  
Warmth. 

It’s so… warm. He’s warm. He’d forgotten what warmth felt like, he’d forgotten that he could feel anything but numb, as he breaths in, the air not scorching his lungs, his lungs not frozen stiff and solid, his heart beating a normal pattern. It hurts, gods, it hurts, the blood rushing through his system, his body tingling with pins and needles as his skin comes back to life, his body starts to properly circulate and regulate once more. 

He manages a deep inhale, forcing open his eyes, blinking several times to try and clear his vision, trying to place where he is, he doesn’t understand, the last thing he remembers… 

“Janus?” He jolts away, at that voice, so fast it hurts, sets his head spinning, he can’t focus properly, he’s so slow, he’s so weak, that motion nearly sends him toppling back into darkness. He senses someone moving closer, and he flinches. 

“don’t.” His voice rasps, and it claws his throat, to speak, it’s angry and sore and inflamed, from choking on ice. “don’t touch me.” He gasps. 

“please, I just want to help-“ He barks out a laugh, forcing himself to meet those eyes, to push past the aching beauty of them, the brilliant blue, sparkling like stars. 

“you? Want to help? That’s… a laugh and a half. You were so helpful when they dragged me into your court. You were so delightfully helpful when your father sentenced me. And you were perfectly helpful when you spoke up, said you loved me, stood up for me, except… wait a second, that’s right, you didn’t! You didn’t say a word. I should have expected that, from an Unseelie.” He spits the word, delighted as He flinches back, guilt written across his face, good, he wants him to hurt, he wants him to hurt an iota of the amount that he himself has been hurt. 

“I’m sorry, I should have, I’m sorry. I looked for you, I’ve been searching for you, as soon as it happened I regretted it, I lo-“ He hisses, moving faster than he knew he could, his claws out as he grabs Him around the neck, teeth bared. 

“Don’t you dare fucking say that word to me. If you truly ever felt that way, felt it for real, you wouldn’t have done this to me. You wouldn’t have simply let this happen. I don’t care, how long you looked, I don’t care about your guilt, I don’t care about you.” He hisses, shoving Him back, and He doesn’t even try to stop, leaning heavily against the wall. 

“janus…” He collapses back into the bed, worn completely out, he hates this, hates the weakness in every muscle of his being, the endless exhaustion pulling him down, but the warmth is undeniable, too tempting to ignore, so he slips back down under the covers. 

“Leave me alone, Patton. Whatever we had, whatever it was, you killed it. I would have fought for you. I would have done everything, to protect you. And you left me out to dry. How long, has it even been?” He asked, not opening his eyes, bracing himself for the answer. 

“100 years. You… were nearly frozen through. I was almost too late, to reverse it.” Patton’s voice is a broken whisper, and he inhales sharply, because he hadn’t imagined it had been that long, he’d thought maybe 25 or 50 years, it had been a century. A century, he’d wasted away in the ice, and Patton expected him to greet him as a savior, to go back to exactly how it was, to forgive him. 

“go.” He says, barely a whisper, but he knows Patton hears, he needs him to leave, before the tears boil over, he needs him to leave. 

“Jan-“ 

“Go!” He shouts, furious, suddenly furious, throwing whatever he could reach at Patton, which turned out to be a pillow, but it was enough, the fury and despair in his voice sending Patton scurrying from the room. 

He bursts into tears. 

He curls tight around himself, shaking and sobbing and breaking, pulling the blanket around his shoulders, everything hurts, gods, everything hurts. 

Nothing more than his heart, which is painfully, infuriatingly screaming at him to go after Patton, because despite everything, his traitorous mind still, still, still, wants Patton right here, next to him, wants to curl around him, wants to kiss him silly, but he won’t let himself. He won’t let himself be hurt again, he won’t make the same mistake with the same person again, he won’t do that to himself, he can’t survive it. 

So he curls up miserably, trying to breathe past the anguish, letting himself slip away again.  
…  
Cold.

Achingly, freezing cold.

Those first few moments were the worst. When Logan reached into his chest, closed his hand over his heart, and released the power of the Winter King into his soul.

He gasped, unable to breathe past the agony, past the spots speckling his vision, it was unbelievably painful, and as soon as Logan let go, he crumpled to the ground. 

He’d never felt cold, before. He was a summer fae. He reveled in sunlight, in basking in warmth, in the soft summer breezes and sun soaked earth. Flowers bloomed and leaves unfurled as he passed, when he danced, he left faerie rings behind. He was a being made of light and sun and summer. He’d never known cold. Not even in Patton’s arms, had he ever felt cold.

But now it was in his soul, spreading like an infection, choking and killing the light, and he barely heard Logan's sharp voice declare his sentence, the word eternity all he caught, ringing in his ears, as he was dragged away, the world going black.

And when he woke, it was to the cave, sealed tight with ice.  
…  
He’s thrashing. He's thrashing and fighting against the weight on him, struggling against the ice, he can feel it, climbing him, he’s afraid, he can’t let it take him, not again, please! 

“janus. Janus, shhh.” His eyes fly open, his heart pounding, eyes wide and wild, finally managing to lock on the dark ones staring down at him, the deep raven's wing hair, the pale, moonlight skin. 

“virgil?” he whispers, voice small and broken, as Virgil strokes through his hair, smiling softly and sadly. 

“I’m here. It’s me, I’m here.” He bursts into tears once more, allowing Virgil to gently scoop him up, into his arms. He was warm, gods, he was warm, he never thought warmth would be such a novel concept.

“Why… how...” Virgil’s steady motion against his head is so soothing, so utterly Virgil, the solitary is a disciple of the moon and her light, and can be both as brilliantly bright as the full moon, and as vengeful and dark as the new moon. He’s at his very softest right now. 

“patton. After… it didn’t take long, for me to realize what had happened. And I nearly killed him for it, I would have, but he was entirely too willing to let me. Said he deserved it. The only reason he fought me at all was he needed to find you, free you, fix what he’d caused. So I helped. I know people, places, he doesn’t. So sheltered, he wouldn’t have survived a day out on his own alone, not like you. You could outwit anyone, Jan.” he scoffs, shaking his head. 

“no. I couldn’t outwit my own stupid heart. I couldn’t… there were so many of them. And I had nothing, Virgil, not in Winter territory, not in the heart of their court. I couldn’t even make a sunbeam if I put everything I had into it. And he did nothing. Nothing. He can have all the guilt and remorse he wants, it doesn’t mean a damn thing when he could have stopped it, when I spent a century-" his voice cracks, and he shakes at the force of the tremor wracking his spine, choking on the air. 

“easy, take it easy, Jan. You’re barely recovered at all, you need to relax. You need to sleep.” Virgil’s voice echoes on the last word, reverberating in his skull, gently pushing him down into what he knows will be a deep, dreamless sleep. So he lets it, and goes without a fight, he doesn’t want to feel right now, anyways.  
…  
The first time he sees Patton, he was on the edge of summer territory. He hadn’t realized he’d wandered that far, but at one glance, he could tell he had. Frost was dotting the ground, leaves frozen delicately to their branches, a thin sheen of ice over the stream. 

And there, humming as he hung icicles, was a winter fae. His hair was blond, so blond it was nearly white, though it curled like wisps of cloud around his face. His humming sounded like wind through bare branches, like snowflakes drifting downwards, like the soft sound of clinking ice. 

Leave. He knew he should leave, but he was stuck in place. Slowly, he took a step back, flinching as he stepped directly on a dry branch, that cracked loudly under his foot. The winter fae jumped, spinning to look his way, eyes widening, clearly just as surprised to see Janus, as he was to see him. 

But gods, he was captivating. His eyes were crystal blue, deep and light and glimmering like jewels, his face freckled with sparkling bits of frost, his skin a soft white, pale, but almost luminous. His mouth was open in a silent ‘o’ of surprise, and before he could think twice, Janus bolted, ignoring the fae’s plea to wait.  
…  
He didn’t know why, he’d come back the next day. He was usually cautious over curious, and so close to winter he’d have trouble defending himself. 

But he felt a wash of relief as he neared, hiding in the leafy canopy, blending perfectly with the dappled light and bark, hearing the humming once more.

He’d nearly fallen out of the tree, when Patton turned to his hiding spot, looking directly at him.

“Hey, there. I… was hoping you’d come back.” He hopped out of the tree, arms crossed. 

“Why?” he’d asked, Patton's eyes widening, as he shrugged.

“You seemed lonely. And… I am too.” He answered, and, well, he wasn’t wrong. So he’d warily spent the day with Patton, his softness and gentle excitement chipping away at his wariness, until by the end of the day he was smiling and laughing, promising to return.  
…  
The Wild Hunt.

The horns, blaring and loud, the wolves braying, the hooves pounding, as he runs, knowing he isn’t fast enough, but he has to be, he’s lost all sense of direction, he doesn’t know if he’s running deeper into winter territory or away, not that it matters. The hunt isn’t bound to territories.

He yelps, as he falls, tripping over a stone, hissing at a shout of triumph, being grabbed and pulled up by his hair. 

“So, little snake, you’re the one who’s been leading the Prince astray. The Winter King is just dying to meet you.” The armored fae grinned, all sharp teeth and feral delight, as he howls, calling the others to him. He’s bound and thrown on the back of a horse, as the hunt takes off as fast as the wind.

He tries to ignore the fear pounding in his chest. He’d been targeted. He’d been taken on purpose, not random bad chance, the Winter King knew, he knew, and what had happened, how did he know?

Bad, this is bad, this is the worst, and as they go deeper into Winter, to the heart, he knows with a sinking heart he’s been sold out. He’s doomed.  
….  
“I’m sorry. I’m so… there’s not even words for it. I tried. I know you won’t care, but I did try. I begged and pleaded and screamed and cried, when my father told me he’d found us out. Told me he’d sent the hunt to collect you. He scoffed, said my pleading just showed you made me weak, proved that my ‘summer fling' had softened me, and I needed to be reminded of my place.

Speaking up in the court wouldn’t have changed anything. I know for your people it would have, passion and love would win the day, but to mine, emotions are weaknesses to be exploited. I had to pretend, I didn’t care. I had to pretend…” Patton's voice breaks, and he hears him push back his hair, lean forwards in his chair.

“Gods, it hurt. Having to sit there, stone faced. Having to pretend like the agony on your face meant nothing to me, having to pretend like your pain didn’t resonate in my soul, forcing myself not to intervene, it shattered me, Janus.

I expected him to just put you in the dungeon. I could sneak down there, break the curse, run off with you, somewhere.

But he must have known I would. Because he had them hide you away, behind enchantments and traps and spells. I don’t know why he was so afraid, of me loving you, Janus, I don’t know why he locked you away and then locked me in my rooms, but I broke out and haven’t looked back since. 

That was when Virgil found me. When I left winter territory, headed away into neutral. Demanded to know what I’d done to you. Was ready to kill me for it. I would almost have let him, if I didn’t know only I could break your curse.

He must have seen through my panic and fear though, because he let me explain, then offered me help, and we’ve been searching for you, ever since. He hid you so no magic could find you, you couldn’t be traced or scryed or tracked. We followed what clues there were, bargained and cheated and lied for information.

It was a cave at the peak of the tallest mountain, by the way. The trek up there nearly did us in, between the avalanche, the giant snow monster, the crevices, the traps.

And then there you were. Nearly frozen through, nearly dead, or as good as dead. You wouldn’t have lasted another sunset, and I had to hope, I just had to hope it would work because I could have come all that way, had you in my arms, and still lost you. But I didn’t. I kissed you. And you thawed. 

I know you’d scoff at it. But that’s the catch. It has to be a kiss of pure love. From both sides. That’s why I thought… I hoped… but it was selfish.

Just because you still love me, after all of that, after 100 years of ice, doesn’t mean you still want me, not when I’m the reason, for that suffering. I understand. 

Just to know you’re safe, you’re alive… that will be enough. As long as I know you’re out there somewhere, it will be enough. I know Virgil will take care of you, make sure you heal properly, make sure you look after yourself. I know he’ll keep you safe.

I… don’t know, where I'll go. Not back to court. Never back there, I’m not one for violence but I think if I had to meet my father's eyes again I’d do my best to kill him. I think he underestimated, what you are to me. I think he’d apologize, try to rationalize his actions, say it was for my own good and it only made me stronger, and I think I would well and truly snap.

I’ll wander, I suppose. Find somewhere far away and quiet to settle. Somewhere I don’t have to worry about anyone tracking me down. I’ll think of you, often. I’ll… I’ll always love you, Janus. You’re the only love I’ll ever have. I’m sorry.

I wish I could tell you all this, really tell you. But you don’t want to see me, and the least I can do is let you have whatever peace you can find.

So. Goodbye, Janus. I…” Patton trails off, and he feels a tear drip onto his hand, realizing Patton is holding it gently. “I love you.” He whispers, and Janus feels him start to stand, start to pull away, and before he knows what he’s doing, he squeezes Patton's hand, freezing him in place, as he opens his eyes, tilting his head, to look at Patton.

“Janus?” Patton’s voice is tremulous, afraid. He has deep bags under his eyes, and they don’t shine like he remembers, the glittering crystal is dulled to a deep ocean blue. He’s harder, than he remembers, he’s more toned, now, the softness of his face more angular, his freckles more pronounced, his skin as tan as it can get, for a winter fae, and he has scars, across his arm, one across the bridge of his nose. His shoulders slump, and he’s thinner than he should be. There’s a painful bittersweetness, to Patton’s face, in the small almost smile, in the gentle softness to his eyes. He looks… 

“you look tired.” He says, voice a hoarse whisper, though it doesn’t tear apart his throat. Patton laughs, though there’s no humor in it, just emptiness, as he looks away. 

“I am. Tired. I don’t really know the last time I really slept. Even… even with Virgil’s help. I just saw… you.” Patton replies, rubbing his face, then pushing through his hair. “I just saw you. Begging me, to do something, with your eyes. The… the agony, when my father…” He squeezes Patton’s hand gently, though Patton pulls away, shaking his head. “I should have done something. If I’d been fast enough, maybe I could have gotten us out, maybe I would have had enough power, to get you out, at least. Send you somewhere far away, out of their reach. 

Maybe it was selfish. It was, but if I tried and failed my father wouldn’t have just cursed you. He would have killed you, and maybe that would have been better, maybe you would have chosen that, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for acting, for causing you to suffer, but I couldn’t bear letting go.”

“patton…” Janus reaches out, resting a hand on Patton’s arm, who flinches, despite how light the touch is. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be here, when you woke up. I just… I wanted to say goodbye. So. Goodbye. I hope… gods, I hope you can be happy, somewhere. I hope you can find peace. I hope you can forget me.” Patton whispers, smiling sadly, at him, a deep rooted sorrow in his eyes, as he moves to stand. 

“stay.” He says, softly, tugging Patton back down. “please.” Patton sinks down on the edge of the bed, still not looking at Janus, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. 

“I… didn’t know. All of that.” Patton shakes his head. 

“it doesn’t matter.” 

“It does. I thought… I thought you didn’t care. I thought you just used me, then disposed of me, I thought the whole thing was a ploy. But it wasn’t. You did… you did what you could, and… you never gave up, on me. I spent a century, in the ice. I didn’t have a choice. Buy you… you did. You could have left me, moved on, forgotten about me. Instead you dedicated a century of yourself, to nothing but me. And were willing to just… walk away. After all that, you are just going to walk away, if that’s what I want.” 

“Of course I did. It… it was my fault. It’s my fault. The least I can do… is just go.” 

“What if I don’t want you to go?” His breath catches at that question. 

“why would you want me to stay? Why…” 

“because you were right. Because I love you. Because I know… you fought for me, in the way that you could. Thank you, Patton.” Patton shot to his feet, pacing across the room, letting out a shuddering breath. 

“don’t. Don’t do that, don’t thank me, I haven’t done anything, I haven’t fixed anything I haven’t caused, I haven’t done anything worthy of thanks. Not yours.” Janus winces, as he pushes himself up to sitting, the world spinning at the motion, his limbs heavy and unwieldy. He forces himself to his feet, taking two stumbling steps towards Patton before he falls. Then arms are around him, catching him, and he’s overwhelmed by the scent of frost and pine and stone. 

He’s just as warm as he remembers. Just as soft, even if he doesn’t look completely soft anymore, he is, holding him so carefully, so gently, one hand against the back of his head, the other against his waist, pressing him close to his chest, and his own hands come up, weakly clinging to him. 

He’s missed this. Even when he hated Patton, even when he thought Patton had left him out to dry, had doomed him to his fate, had left him to the ice, he had missed this. It always feels so right, in Patton’s arms, so perfect, Patton’s heartbeat against his ear, his warmth and scent and love overflowing, past all of his own anger and grief, past Patton’s, he can feel it. He has always loved Patton. Even when he hated him, he loved him. 

“stay.” He whispers, exhausted already, slipping away, already. “don’t let go. Stay.” He hears Patton let out a soft sob, pressing his face against his hair, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m staying. I’ll stay for however long you want me, Janus. I love you. I’ve never stopped, loving you. I’ll do anything you ask of me. I’ll give you anything you want or need. I promise. I promise, love.” He feels Patton shift them back onto the bed, the covers come up over them, though Patton doesn’t let go, simply gently rearranges them on the bed, so Janus is laying atop him, head against his chest, their legs tangled together. One of Patton’s hands is in his hair, gently teasing through it, the other holds his hand, pressing it to his lips. He shivers, at the sensation, melting further into Patton’s arms, sighing at a soft kiss to his forehead, Patton rubbing circles over his knuckles. “go to sleep, dearest. I’ll be here, when you wake. I’ll always be here.” He can’t help it, as he slips back into sleep, a deep, real, sleep.  
…  
A slight shifting wakes him slowly. He blinks open his eyes, confused at first, to find himself in a soft bed, Patton’s arms around him, he’d expected, really, to be back in the cave. He hadn’t expected this to be… real. 

“sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Virgil murmurs, from the doorway, that’s what had woken him, the door opening just a tad. “Just thought I’d check in, make sure the two of you were doing alright.” 

“yeah. We’re alright.” He replies, Patton’s head poking up, from where he’d shifted, spooning around Janus, his head resting in the crook of Janus’s neck, surrounding him in that intoxicating warmth that he will never be able to get enough of. 

“Wha’s happening?” Patton slurs, making Janus smile. 

“nothing, snowflake. Virgil’s just checking up. I think he expected me to have murdered you.” 

“Maybe not murdered. Definitley wounded.” Janus snorts, and Patton smiles softly, tilting his head so their eyes meet, before gently, slowly, pressing their lips together. Janus leans into, after a long moment, pressing closer, letting the warmth bloom in his stomach, through his heart, taking over his mind and soul, fireworks exploding across his vision. After a desperately long moment Patton pulls back, allowing him to breathe, not that he has any space in his lungs, Patton has stolen all of his air, with how radiantly happy he looks, right now. 

“I love you.” He whispers. Despite everything, that sentence has never been truer than now, as Patton smiles, lighting up his world, that smile, some of the tiredness gone from his eyes, some of the weight off of his shoulders. Patton tucks back his hair, hand lingering against his face, and he leans into it, with a pleased hum, as he strokes his scales. 

“for eternity. I will love you for eternity, Janus.” Patton replies, pressing their foreheads together, breathing in his air. 

“Well. You have certainly worked things out. I’ll leave you two to get some rest, gods know you need it. Someone fetch me, when you wake, you both need to eat.” Virgil says, closing the door with a soft smile. 

Janus rolled over, pressing himself tight to Patton’s chest, wrapping his arms around his neck, feeling Patton press a soft kiss to the top of his head, wrapping his own arms around his waist. 

“goodnight, sunlight.” Patton murmurs against him. 

“Goodnight, snowflake.”


End file.
